After meeting Zhu De, Mao went within Babaoshan to look for Qu Qiubai.

Qu Qiubai had twice served as the de facto leader of the Chinese Communist Party between 1927 and 1931 and was one of its early leaders. In 1935, he was arrested by the Nationalists in Changting, Fujian, and executed by firing squad at the age of thirty-six. He was buried nearby and, in 1955, reinterred at the Babaoshan Revolutionary Cemetery.

In 1963, Mao once said: “I can’t bear to read Superfluous Words written by Qu Qiubai—it’s nothing more than begging the enemy for mercy, a confession and betrayal.” During the Cultural Revolution, Qu Qiubai was criticized, and in 1967 his grave was smashed by Red Guards. In 1980, the Central Committee rehabilitated him, affirming that Superfluous Words was not an act of betrayal or surrender. His tomb was rebuilt at Babaoshan. Qu’s wife, Yang Zhihua, was struggled against and imprisoned during the Cultural Revolution and died in 1973.

Qu Qiubai had no children, only a stepdaughter, Qu Duyi, who was fourteen when he was executed. From 1928 to 1941 she lived in the Soviet Union. After returning to China with her mother, she was imprisoned by the Xinjiang warlord Sheng Shicai. In 1946 she was rescued and later worked at Xinhua News Agency. In 1950 she went to the Soviet Union to establish Xinhua’s Moscow bureau. In 1957 she returned to China to work at the Chinese Academy of Agricultural Sciences. In 1978 she worked in the Russian section of Xinhua’s International Department and retired in 1982.

Qu had already learned from other spirits that Mao was on a so-called “journey of repentance,” seeking forgiveness from various wronged souls so that they might speak favorably for him when the Jade Emperor held his public trial.

When Qu saw Mao, he said first, “It has been eighty years since we parted!”

Mao replied, “Eighty years. I remember that before the Long March in 1934, you asked to join it, but you were left behind. Soon after, you were captured and killed.”

Qu said, “At that time it wasn’t you who decided—it was Bo Gu and Otto Braun who had the final say. They said I was physically weak and that the Long March would be too arduous, so I was left behind. I obeyed the needs of the revolution and was willing to work behind enemy lines. But now it seems that leaving me there was simply to consign me to death.”

Mao said, “After you were captured, the Party had no way to rescue you, and you met with misfortune.”

Qu replied, “Chiang Kai-shek spared my dignity, saying I could come out and work in a Russian-language department without writing any statement. I refused. I was willing to end things there. Before my execution, I wrote Superfluous Words as a way to conclude my life.”

Mao said, “When you refused to cooperate with the Nationalists, they would not spare you. Fortunately, they did not torture you much.”

Qu said, “General Song Xilian, who carried out the execution order, remembered that I had once taught him at Shanghai University. Before the execution, he prepared four dishes for me—a very generous final meal, with wine. He even invited a photographer to take a portrait of me as a gentleman, so that people can still see today that before my death I remained composed.”

Mao said, “There is a saying: to die heroically in passion is easy; to face death calmly is hard. You were not only calm but elegant.”

Qu said, “After the meal, I walked about two li to Zhongshan Park, where the execution ground was. Along the way I sang The Internationale and the Red Army Song in Russian, shouting ‘Long live the Chinese Communist Party!’ and ‘Long live Communism!’ Many people saw me off along the road. It was as if I were going to a grand gathering in the park. At the execution ground, I chose a patch of grass, sat cross-legged gracefully, and asked the soldiers to shoot from behind.”

Mao said, “Your final singing and slogans showed the bearing of a martyr. Unlike Superfluous Words, which came from the depths of your soul. Going to the execution ground, you were a martyr; writing Superfluous Words, you were a gentleman. Your life ended with a perfect full stop.”

Qu replied, “I was fragile. I took the wrong path and could not start over. Falling there ended it once and for all, sparing the world further harm. Unlike you, who lived to eighty-three and now lie in a crystal coffin, your giant portrait still hanging over Tiananmen. Your restless spirit still wanders across China, misleading the world and harming the Chinese nation.”

Mao said, “It was my successors who wanted me to lie in the crystal coffin to prolong my authority. The giant portrait covers the tens of millions of unjust dead behind it. If the covering were lifted, it would not look good.”

Qu said, “You also left behind five volumes of rubbish, printed in tens of millions of copies, poisoning China. Since I became General Secretary, I wrote little. In Shanghai I wrote some essays published alongside Lu Xun’s works. My Superfluous Words expressed my true temperament.”

Mao said, “My Selected Works are all about struggle and seizing power. Once power was seized, no one reads them now. Unlike your Superfluous Words, which still resonates among young people eighty years later. If you could go online and look, you would see countless readers’ reflections echoing your words.”

Qu said, “I do not fear blame or condemnation. What I fear is admiration. I hope future youth will not imitate me. I merely exposed the truth of my inner self completely. That is what Bolsheviks detest. I could never overcome that gentlemanly consciousness; it conflicted with being a proletarian fighter. That was my inner weakness. To say it before the Communist Party was undoubtedly ‘superfluous.’”

Mao said, “I understand. You struggled on the Communist road, failed, and were tormented for more than a decade, leaving you exhausted and disheartened. I noticed that in your final writing you mentioned a few books worth rereading, including Mao Dun’s Vacillation, one of the trilogy Disillusionment, Vacillation, and Pursuit written after the failure of the Great Revolution. Perhaps Vacillation resonated with you.”

Qu replied, “You’re right. Mao Dun’s Vacillation expressed my state of mind exactly. The Communist Party avoids the word ‘vacillation,’ but honestly, my heart wavered between gentleman and warrior. That is intolerable for a proletarian fighter. I fell after the Great Revolution; you continued the ‘pursuit’ until you seized nationwide power.”

Mao said, “You’re right. I pursued until I gained the whole country. Peaceful nation-building was within reach; the situation was excellent. But I was too deeply poisoned by Stalin. I continued revolution without end, unable to pull back. I launched one line struggle after another—ten in all—persecuting and causing countless deaths. In the end I was isolated, trusting only my wife and nephew.”

Qu said, “It is a pity you squandered thirty years of peaceful development, causing more deaths than in the Great Revolution, the Civil War, and the War of Resistance combined. The whole population could not get enough to eat. It was tragic.”

Mao said, “Following Stalin down the revolutionary path was my final outcome. I led China into a dead end. The proletarian ‘warrior’ could not succeed. Fortunately, Deng Xiaoping retrieved your ‘gentlemanly’ consciousness and led the Party and the people step by step out of that dead end. Forty years have passed, and we are halfway out.”

Qu said, “I was not a ‘political animal,’ unable to focus on climbing ranks and gaining wealth. I had no great ambition. After the failure of the Great Revolution, I had to follow Soviet advisers and oppose Chen Duxiu. But to replace him myself felt utterly inappropriate; I was truly a conciliator. When they later removed me, I felt relieved. My scholar’s habits were not eradicated. Making me a leader was ‘a misunderstanding of history.’ A weak horse dragging thousands of pounds up a mountain—I could not bear that weight. Later, whatever the Central Committee said, I repeated. If they said I was wrong, I immediately admitted it. I did not wish to hold views differing from the Center. I performed my duties mechanically; to call it ‘struggle’ would be too flattering.”

Mao said, “If I had possessed even five percent of your gentlemanly calm after seizing the country, pausing to reflect before acting, I would not have brought such catastrophic disaster upon the nation and its people. But I followed a dark road with Stalin to the very end.”

Qu said, “That I became a Communist leader associated with killing and violence is truly ironic. I was really a timid scholar—too soft-hearted even to kill a mouse, indecisive and hesitant.”

Mao said, “You had Confucius’ way of loyalty and forgiveness, unlike me, who only knew to charge forward. The more I charged forward, the greater the disaster I brought upon the nation.”

Qu said, “You were bold and relentless; I once envied you. Now you recognize your faults and reflect, turning back to Confucius.”

Mao said, “It was from your Superfluous Words that I gained insight. Your words were not superfluous at all.”

Qu replied, “If my words are not superfluous, the credit belongs to Confucius. He had taken root in my mind and was not uprooted by ‘revolution.’”

Seeing that their conversation had run its course, Mr. Qu rose and took his leave.

NEXT: 39. Chen Duxiu (1879–1942)